


Long Road to Okay

by closemyeyesandleap



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e10 The Patriot, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Staticquake (mentioned), TW: suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 04:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16401032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closemyeyesandleap/pseuds/closemyeyesandleap
Summary: Even after she's back with the team, Daisy's old demons still sometimes emerge, uninvited.Especially when she realizes that she's the only one who's alone.(Set after S4E10, "the Patriot.")





	Long Road to Okay

**Author's Note:**

> TW for suicidal thoughts.

“I just want to stress that Jeffrey was just doing the job Talbot hired him to do. He was trying to protect SHIELD, and whatever we think of the methods, I think we can all agree we owe him a debt for that.” The team watched Coulson in silence. 

Daisy felt Coulson’s eyes fix on her.

“But from now on, I am going to serve as the director for operations, while Mace is still going to maintain the charade, be the face of SHIELD. Understood? Any questions?” 

Coulson surveyed the team gathered in the director’s office. Nobody spoke.

“Alright, then.” Coulson’s voice softened. “Get some rest. It’s been a long day for everyone.”

Daisy raised her gaze defiantly at Mace, but he wasn’t look in her direction. His shoulders were slumped, and he was staring out the window. 

She dropped her eyes and retreated from the office with the rest of the team. 

It _had_ been a long day.

Had it only been this morning that Mace had paraded her in front of the crowd in Pennsylvania, praising her in half-truths and convenient fictions? Had mere hours passed since she and May sat in Lola and worried that Coulson was gone for good this time? How was it possible that her brow was still sticky with sweat from their mission to the hills to recover their guys?

Yes, it was a very, very long day. 

She lingered slightly behind the rest of the team as they walked down the hall, away from the office. 

They turned a corner, and she started to follow Fitzsimmons to the kitchen. A bite to eat would be nice. Daisy's eyes drifted down to her friends' hands. She noticed how Jemma’s fingers had found Fitz’s. Their heads tilted together. Daisy slowed. 

Best give them their privacy. 

Back in the hall, she watched YoYo caress a bruise that had blossomed on Mack’s cheek. He drew her to him in a hug, and they departed from the group.

Even May and Coulson, usually so painfully slow at admitting their feelings for each other, were hovering inches closer than normal. 

Daisy thought back to the moment she had shared with May in Lola. Rarely did May let her emotions show like that. She needed to give the two of them time to process. 

“I’m off to bed, guys,” Daisy said. “Try not to get kidnapped while I’m gone. ‘Kay, director?” she teased Coulson. Her voice fell a little flatter than intended.

“I’ll do my best. Good night,” Coulson replied. May nodded her own silent 'good night.' 

Daisy remained stationary for a moment, watching Coulson and May walk down the hall toward the common area. As they turned the corner, she retreated back to the dorms. 

Closing the door to her room, she could feel the adrenaline from earlier completely washing out of her body. In its absence, she felt drained. Empty. 

Daisy leaned against the door, shutting her eyes. 

The image of the crowd from earlier was seared onto the inside of her eyelids. She saw their "Mace/Johnson" signs and their “Quake is my Hero” t-shirts. Their faces blurred together. It was only the reassuring presence of Mack and Coulson, silently patrolling the perimeter, that had kept her from bolting from the stage. 

They needed her to play her part, and as much as she hated it, she would do it. 

It wasn’t the limelight that bothered her, not really. Daisy was getting far too used to the cameras, the stares, the people who thought they knew her but had no idea who she really was, as a person. 

No, the publicity wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the farce.

The problem was the look of shining appreciation that the woman from the bridge had cast over her as Mace told the story of the collapse.

The problem was being back in a town where months before a very different encounter than the one Mace had recounted had gone down between her and the Watchdogs.

Yes, the Watchdogs had been trying to take down bridge. But they only targeted it because they knew that she was heading to thwart their access to the financial reserves they kept in the nearby bank. 

Had she not been there, the bridge would never have been targeted. She couldn’t stop the main Watchdog crew because she was trying to save the lives on the bridge, her arms aching from the force of her vibrations as she struggled to lift the chunks of concrete and the metal cars upon them.

She could still smell the dust in the air, the lingering bite of smoke. 

More than anything, she remembered wishing—longing—for the bridge to be empty so that rather than lower the concrete, she could let it come crashing down.

She could let it bury her.

Daisy opened her eyes, blinking away the tears that rendered her vision bleary. It had been weeks since the feelings had returned with such force.

Her vision cleared, and her eyes settled on her bedroom before her.

Another stab pierced her heart, allowing more of the old longing back in.

Everything looked the same as before. Yet it would never be the same.

He would never come back.

How many times had she curled up with him on that bed? How many times had she stared at the ceiling giggling as he played with the electricity in the room, making the industrial lights twinkle above them like stars? How many moments had they spent in ecstasy or simply entwined, together?

She had to get out. 

Daisy sucked in a breath and dashed from her room.

She glanced around, hoping to avoid running into anyone. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this, not when they’d grown used to seeing her as she used to be—a teammate, a friend, rather than a burden. Rather than the broken one who ran away. 

She decided to descend to the gym.

May and Coulson would be in the common room.

Fitz and Simmons would be in the kitchen.

Mack and YoYo, well, they had gone off to bed together.

She reached the gym and sunk to the ground. Her back rested against the brick wall, and she half-concealed her curled up frame behind the row of dumbbells.

Her mind drifted back to the team. They each had someone—May had Coulson; Simmons had Fitz; YoYo had Mack. Somehow, in the time that she had been gone, they had all drifted closer to their respective partner. 

Despite May’s hesitancy earlier, Daisy knew that she and Coulson had finally reached the point where they were admitting what they meant to each other. Fitz and Simmons had moved in together. And even though Daisy knew her own conspiracy with YoYo had screwed with Mack and Elena’s relationship, for a while, now she always saw them hand in hand.

She was happy for them all. 

Yet she also felt extraneous. 

Unnecessary.

The team had moved on in her absence. Sure, she was handy for getting them out of tight spots, like Coulson, Mace, and Mack’s predicament earlier, but on a deeper, personal level?

They all had each other.

She had no one.

Daisy could feel it building again. She thought leaving her room would push it away, her need to disappear, to make it all end. But there was no part of the base free of his presence. There was no part of her head free of her demons.

 _No._ She urged herself. _Fight it._

It was an itch, growing stronger by the moment.

She knew they’d want her with them. She knew _he’d_ want her to live.

She knew it in her mind, but in her arms? In her heart?

That old black hole was back with a vengeance, trying to pull her away into nothingness.

_Fight it. Fight it._

She tried to count her breaths as so often she did with May. After a few minutes, she realized meditation would not suffice to clear her mind of the demons.

Daisy pushed herself to her feet.

If peace and calm wouldn’t work, maybe moving would.

She approached the punching bag and started hammering away. Her punches fell rhythmically at first, mirroring her breaths from before. 

The exercise was a much more satisfying meditation than the breath.

She increased in speed, focusing only on the bruising blows that her fists were delivering to the bag.

One after another. Then another. Then another, another, another, another, another—

“Daisy?”

Daisy stumbled back, startled.

Coulson stood behind her, peering at her through eyes wide with concern. 

Daisy moved her hand to wipe the sweat from her face and realized that mingled with her sweat were tears.

Her eyes felt tender. In the fury of her punches, she hadn’t realized she’d begun to cry.

“I th- thought you w- were with May,” she stuttered.

“I was. She was exhausted from the mission, though, and went off to bed. I thought you did the same?” Coulson asked.

Daisy looked away. “Couldn’t sleep.” _Didn’t try_ , if she was being honest.

“Are you upset about Mace?”

Daisy blinked. It took her a moment to even remember what Coulson was referring to. When she did, she shrugged. “No. I mean, yeah, I’m pissed, but I get it. That’s not— nevermind.” 

Daisy hid her face, ashamed. After Coulson’s ordeal, he didn’t need her problems. He had all of SHIELD back on his shoulders again. She needed to suck it up and pull on a happy face.

“Night!” she called behind her, pushing past the punching bag to leave the gym. 

“Hey, Daisy,” Coulson murmured. “Wait.”

She sighed and stopped, turning around and leaning with her arms curled tightly against her chest.

“Want to talk about it?”

Daisy stood, motionless. “No. I should be over it.” 

He drew closer to her and gently lay his hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to be over anything.”

He didn’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t know what _she_ was talking about. 

Daisy knew that she could grieve Lincoln’s death forever. She had accepted that the grief would always be a part of her, woven into her soul alongside the deaths of Andrew, her mother, Trip.

No, what she needed to get over—what had grabbed hold of her again, despite the seeming return to normalcy at SHIELD—was her desire to disappear, that temptation to make it all stop, to remove herself from the equation.

Coulson seemed to realize something else was bubbling beneath the surface, but he didn’t press. Instead, he pulled her into an embrace with his other arm, despite her sweaty form. 

She curled into him, letting the tears silently fall.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured into his shoulder. “I should be okay by now.”

He squeezed her tighter. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay to not be okay, you know. I’m just glad you’re here.”

She nodded, sniffling, the demons quieting in her mind. She knew they’d be back. 

It would be a long road for them to leave for good.

At least she had people walking beside her.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this while contemplating the idea that emotional healing isn't a linear process and imagining some of those "relapse" moments for Daisy.
> 
> As always, thoughts welcome :)


End file.
